Catherine

"Come on, man, you nearly done? I wanna turn too, ya know."

"Fuckin' wait up....nearly done...nearly done" Snapps grumbled, as he flexed his buttocks back and forth between Catherine's willing thighs, "She fuckin' loves it...don'cha...hey...don'cha?" he said to her rhetorically.

Catherine looked up at the stranger as Snapps pummelled into her -- smiling benignly -- encouragingly.

"Maybe turn her on her side, Snapps? Then I can try an' jamb it up her arse at the same time," the newcomer suggested eagerly, as he began to remove his jeans.

"I dunno, man. Whadda you reckon?" Snapps asked Catherine.

Catherine thought for a moment, and then whispered softly, "Um...maybe if I get on top of you?"

Snapps chuckled, and with his penis still firmly planted in Catherine's vagina, he rolled onto his back, bringing her up on top of him, her knees now astride of his hips. Then reaching behind Catherine buttocks, he pulled the cheeks of her arse apart to offer her little brown hole to the newcomer -- and Catherine lent forward till one of her breasts dangled tantalizingly close to Snapps' mouth and felt the newcomer move up onto the bed behind her.

* * *

Trevor called out to the stranger who was looking more and more agitated as the minutes wore on. The last of the bikers had left not long before hand, no doubt to return to their Clubhouse.

"John! Hey, John!" Trevor waved him over to the bar.

"You nearly ready to go, Trevor? It's been over half-an-hour!" John said impatiently.

"Your wife...yep, sounds like she is down the road at the Clubhouse."

"How do you know?"

"I had a moment to ring there for you."

Even though the barman was merely confirming his earlier suspicions, the knowledge alarmed him. Why on earth would she want to go to somewhere like that, he wondered?

"One of the boys reckons there's a pretty blond there with Jed, be your Catherine for sure."

John thought about it for a moment, he was angry now, how dare she not only traipse off over here dressed like a tart, and then go for a ride on some cockhead's motorbike -- but to end up at some stranger's house too! What was fucking wrong with her?

"I'm outa here, Trevor!" John said as he turned and stormed toward the front door.

Trevor handed over the bar keys to the duty manager and quickly headed out after John, "Wait up!"

* * *

John sat in the car out the front of the old, ramshackle house. It looked to be the last of its type in a street of mostly modern, glass-fronted factories and small offices. He could see the barman, Trevor standing by the front door talking to someone. John would have preferred to go to the door himself, but Trevor had convinced him otherwise. John felt quite anxious of course, and what husband wouldn't be? He did not want to fight with his wife anymore; he wanted things to be back to normal. And John certainly did not want to loose his wife over some stupid little fight over what she gave him for dinner, for Christ's sake, which had ultimately led to the situation they were now in.

John had found Catherine's purse in the console of the car -- her little pink mobile phone was inside there too, and it did appear to have a flat battery. He could smell her sweet floral perfume, one of his old favourites he noticed, Chanel No. 5. God, he hoped she was okay.

Looking back up at the bikers' house, John saw the barman wave him over. Deep-down, John had hoped Catherine would just appear at the doorway of the house and run over to him unharmed. He was ready to forgive her for putting herself in such a stupid predicament -- John was also ready to be a better husband to her. He could only imagine that his normally level-headed wife had somehow been tricked into coming to such a place. If those bastards had hurt her!

John walked across the narrow street to the house and up the concrete steps to the front door. Trevor introduced him to a man named Gonzo and the three of them went inside.

It took several moments for John's eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior. Smoke haze clung to the ceiling in a thick blanket, and a vaguely familiar Red-Hot Chilli Peppers song was blaring from large speakers behind a small bar. John felt out of place instantly.

"Whad'll it be, buddy?" a tall biker with long dark hair asked him from behind the bar.

"Um, it's okay thanks, I have just come to pick my wife up. I think she is here somewhere," John replied.

"Blond woman about yea tall wearing a black dress...a short black dress?" the tall biker asked him.

"Yep, that's her. Catherine, her name's Catherine. Do you know where she is?"

"Might as well have a drink, sunshine," the tall biker said smugly.

"What...what do you mean? Where is she?" John asked, instantly alarmed.

"Think she's busy," the biker said, as he handed him a cold can of beer.

"Busy! Busy doing what!" John exclaimed as he began to get agitated.

"Chill man, chill. I'm Jed, you John are ya? I brought her down her, just for a drink or two...hope you don't mind?"

"Of course I mind...would you go get her for me!" John felt his rage building rapidly, he felt like smashing the smug biker's face in.

"Settle Gretel, one of the boys is just taking her for a ride...shouldn't be much longer. She loves it ya know?" Jed said a little ambiguously.

John looked around the room again; it was large enough for a small pool table and a couple of old semi-circular pub booths. There were several other bikers present; a couple of them were playing pool while others looked on. The whole place made John feel uneasy. He picked up the beer and took a long guzzle, trying to calm down a bit.

"You don't think they may have gone back to the pub do you?"

"Nah, reckon it'll be just a quick one, probably done before she knows it," Jed smiled sardonically.

John looked around again and noticed he could not see the barman, Trevor anywhere. Suddenly he was feeling very, very uneasy, and a wave of paranoia washed over him. He wanted to get outside again, into the fresh air and away from these cretins.

Jed talked to him for a few more minutes, but John could not handle it any longer, he had to get outside.

"Toilet down the hall?" John asked the tall biker.

"Yep, last door on ya right."

John had trouble negotiating his way to the hallway, his legs felt like jelly and his stomach churned with anxiety -- he thought he was going to throw up!

Just as he started down the hall, he noticed the barman come out of a room and walk toward him a few paces. The barman then stopped, a surprised look on his face when he saw him coming the other way.

"I'm going out for some air, Trevor. That Jed says she will be back here soon!" John said, not registering the look of guilt that was written all over the barman's face.

The toilet door was locked; John found the back door and opened it up to step outside. He walked a few paces and came to the driveway where several Harleys lined up along the side fence. John walked down slowly past them. Shiny fucking dick-extensions, he thought. He felt like kicking them over like a row of dominoes.

He stood still for a moment and breathed deeply, the cool air helping to calm him down and he sighed deeply, "Come on Catherine!" he murmured pleadingly.

Turning around to walk back the other way, John noticed a light shining dimly from one of three windows down the side of the old house. Crude steel bars were fixed to the outside of the frame. John could see the bottom of the window was raised several centimetres.

He slowly walked over toward it -- just out of curiosity.

The sound, even over the music, was unmistakable; someone was having sex in there!

John moved closer to peer inside. The glass pane was filthy, with years of grime making it difficult to see inside. John bent down to look through the raised part of the window. He could make out a small lamp sitting on an old oil drum marginally illuminating the room. A large bed, not more than three metres from where he stood dominated the room. And on top of the bed, John could clearly see a man kneeling on the bed, his back to the window, his pants down around his knees and his hairy naked buttocks rhythmically thrusting back and forth as he fucked the woman that was bent down in front of him. The sounds from their copulating were a steady series of grunts and groans. They both appeared to be enjoying themselves immensely.

Somewhat bemused by the scene, John was about to move away, when he noticed them. The woman's feet -- either side of the man's knees were the woman's feet -- she had high heels on -- and what appeared to be black stocking!

John's jaw dropped! His heart pounded in his chest! It couldn't be?

Enraged, John ran back around toward the back door and rushed inside. He moved down the hallway to the door he had seen the barman leaving ten minutes earlier and barged inside! He looked down at the scene on the bed, his wife's pretty blond hair was splayed out over her hands that were beneath her head, her back curved up toward her buttocks that were meeting each thrust of the long-haired biker that pummelled into her from behind.

John moved forward quickly and caught them both by surprise; he wrenched the man from his wife with a vice-like grip on his arm and dragged him off the bed.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as John surveyed the scene in total disbelief! He looked down at his wife, Catherine, her backside was still pointing provocatively in the air, and her buttocks were smeared with juices. John's eyes looked on horrified at her red, swollen pussy, gaping open like he had never seen it before! He turned toward the man struggling to his feet in front of him; his large fat cock glistened, as it swung from side to side like a metronome!

John nearly didn't see it coming, the punch swung wide toward his face, but in his heightened state he moved effortlessly out of it path. And then he threw a punch! John's aim was good -- but how could he miss the biker's large nose. With a wonderful sense of satisfaction, he felt the bone and cartilage crack when his fist connected and he watched the man drop to the floor, his pants still around his ankles.

Catherine screamed, "Oh my God! John, I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry!"

She felt herself being quickly dragged to her feet, her legs felt weak and she wobbled on her high heels almost loosing balance.

"How...how...did you find me..."

"Never mind, we have to get outta here, where are your clothes?"

John put his coat around his wife's bare shoulders, he noticed the make-up she had gone to so much trouble to apply before she had left home that evening was smeared, her pretty hair in disarray. Her lovely dress was lying at the foot of the bed in a crumpled heap. He bent to retrieve it and grabbing his wife by her hand, he headed for the bedroom door and turned right down the hallway so they could escape out the backdoor.

"Not so fast, John, my shoes...please...John..." Catherine begged breathlessly.

But John didn't slow down until they were out of the bikers' yard and almost to the little Corolla.

Opening up the passenger door, John helped his wife sit down and then quickly ran around to the driver's door and got in.

"Hey! Where you taken our girlfriend, pal!" a voice bellowed from the front of the house.

John looked over as he started the little car's engine, he could see that smarmy arsehole, Jed standing by the doorway.

"Hey, John me mate, bring her back 'ere would ya, we haven't finished yet, have we beautiful? Tell 'im Catherine, go on, fucken tell your limp-dick husband ya love it here!" Jed yelled out.

John gunned the engine and dropped the clutch hastily; the little front wheels span momentarily before they gripped and the car lurched off down the narrow street away from the abuse that was still being yelled out from the bikers' house.

John drove on silently for several minutes, his anger seething inside of him. He had trouble getting the mental picture of his wife's naked body kneeling on the bed, an apparent enthusiastic participant of the carnal pleasures of the man who knelt behind her. John listened as Catherine sobbed intermittently, while leaning against the car's door.

It was not until they had got on the freeway that he spoke.

"How...how many times, Catherine, how many times have you done this sort of thing to me?" he asked solemnly.

"Catherine, speak to me!"

"I...I have never done this before, I swear. Oh, John, I am sooo sorry, truly, I...I don't know why I did it, I...I don't understand why..." she said softly.

John drove on silently for several more minutes, thinking.

"There was more than one tonight, wasn't there, Catherine?"

Catherine sobbed again, and lent over toward her husband to rest her head on his shoulder.

"Catherine?"

"What do you want me to say? Do you really want to know?"

John remembered the barman disappearing for sometime and then coming out of the same bedroom that his wife had been in. He hoped to God that he had not touched her too. He hoped that maybe he had just been watching. He wasn't sure he wanted to really know.

"That fellow, Jed?"

Catherine nodded weakly, and sobbed again.

John wanted to turn around and kill the bastard! He was sure he had been the instigator -- that arsehole would keep, he thought.

"Just the two of them was it?"

Catherine said nothing.

"Catherine?"

"I...I think so, I had drunk a fair bit you know," she said unconvincingly.

"You think so! For fucks sake, Catherine, surely you knew if someone was fucking you?" John said impatiently.

Catherine remained silent.

"Did you enjoy it? Is that why you let them? I have always known you like to flirt with men and tease them...I am not stupid you know...I am sure you derive some pleasure from that. So, did you?"

Catherine nodded slowly.

"Was that a 'yes'?" John growled.

"Yes," Catherine whispered.

John sighed deeply, "For fucks sake, I don't know if that's a good or bad thing!"

"Do...you want...John, do you want to divorce me now?" Catherine asked meekly.

John drove on silently for another few minutes, still thinking, they had achieved so much together over the years, and the long hard road was getting easier. They were close to owning their own home now, it was in a nice suburb too, one of the best, even though their home may have only been of an 'entry level', it was still nice. A divorce would put them both back years, John had seen it happen to others and they had all struggled on -- usually unhappy with their decision. And of course he really loved his wife too. He knew she was not really promiscuous -- a flirt and a tease, yes, but not promiscuous, not Catherine. It was just an exceptional set of circumstances that had led up to her adultery that evening, of that he was almost certain, and he was pretty certain with an attitude adjustment here and there on both their parts, those set of circumstances should never need be repeated.

Catherine was snuggled up against him with just his jacket over her shoulders. He could see her naked thighs above her stockings and he raised his left arm over her shoulder and then lowering his hand, he began to caress her buttocks softly. She had stopped crying at last.

"What are you doing, John?" Catherine asked sheepishly, when she felt his hand working its way between her thighs toward her pussy.

"God damn, Catherine, that's a mess down there!" John exclaimed when his fingers found her swollen labia, "What the fuck, did you take them all on, or something?"

Catherine said nothing, but her own hand snaked over to her husband's crotch, and she began to rub his penis through his trousers, feeling his flesh growing hard with her touch in a matter of moments.

John sunk a couple of fingers into his wife's sloppy hole, her warmth radiating into the palm of his hand. He felt Catherine unfastening his belt and trousers then deftly, she released his penis.

Catherine manoeuvred herself around and lowered her head toward her husband's cock. Opening her mouth, she wrapped her lips around his hard knob and began to suck.

John found himself smiling, this was a rare experience indeed -- and never before in the car! He slowed the car down to around eighty kilometres an hour; he wanted the moment to last!

"By Christ, that's good honey...aarh yeah, that's really, fucking good," he said, while he continued to finger her messy gash, "In the morning...ooh that's good...Cath, in the morning, I think we better get you down to the clinic for a check-up, hey?"

Catherine stopped sucking her husband's cock for a moment, then thinking about what she had let happen to her, she nodded her head in agreement then bobbed her head up and down feverishly. What a night she'd had!

* * *

Jed looked at some of the footage -- not too bad.

Their Clubhouse may have been a rundown looking dump from the outside, but they owned it, and the land was worth a small fortune now the old industrial area had kicked off again.

One of the best little improvements they had made recently was to add a state-of-the-art surveillance system. There were four cameras, one out the front and another situated down the side of the house to keep tabs on their bikes. There was also one looking over toward the booths from the bar -- the last one was almost superfluous, and was set up in the bedroom down the hall.

Jed had been watching most of the action on the split screen of the colour monitor behind the bar and had recorded the lot. He had even seen Catherine's husband peering in the bedroom window, and had looked on bemused when he had screamed back inside to stop his wife from being defiled any further -- and man, had they defiled her!

"Good?" Gonzo asked him.

"Yep, fucken excellent stuff, it should be worth a few bob," Jed replied.

Jed knew a Web-guru who had a nice little pay-site dedicated to this sort of worthy stuff and already his submissions in the past had more than paid for the expense of the high-definition security system. His bro's all thought he was mad at first -- but that had soon changed.

"How come you wanted me to let her husband come down here, Jed? We could have all been fucking her till the morning," Trevor asked carefully.

"Wanted to see the look on his face, Trev," Jed laughed cruelly, "And for fuck-sake, it was worth it, even if ol'donkey-dick got a belt in the nose for it!"

"And I reckon it'll make it a bit more 'special' for the punters who like to sit at home and wank over this sorta stuff too!" Jed quantified further.

"Hey, guess what? I've got her phone number too, dumb-arse husband gave it to me along with his name on a card," Trevor volunteered, "Reckon we orta try and get her back one day?"

"Maybe..." Jed mused thoughtfully, "Maybe..."